Dead End
by WolfUnderTheMoon
Summary: He stood with his back to the rough brick wall, panting, facing one of the other men. The man with the raised wand in his hand. Dead end.Now he knew he had no hope.
1. Chapter 1

I do not know how I could write this story. If something like this ever happens in the books, I'll...I'll...I'll cry a lot until they change it sniff.

Disclaimer: I own only the plotline and the house. And (I wish) the photo album. I own none of the characters. Not one, although there's one I'd like to. If I did, I wouldn't be able to go shopping without people recognising me, and that would annoy me. I would, however, have a laptop.

Enjoy.

Dead End.

He stood with his back to the rough brick wall, panting, facing one of the other men. The man with the raised wand in his hand.

Dead end.

More people appeared, cloaked and masked in black, one picking up the battered wand lying feet from the wall and snapping it in two across his knee. The crack resounded throughout the usually deserted dark alley, and the man by the wall winced slightly at the sound. Now he knew he had no hope.

Flashback

Five years since the golden trio had left Hogwarts. The last battle had not yet taken place, but the death count was rising and the fight would soon come to a head.

The count would rise by one more tonight.

They had tracked him down to here. He had been at his lonely house, watching, from a dilapidated dark red sofa, a black-and-white Muggle TV an old friend had given him, when his front door burst from its hinges. Ten Death Eaters entered the house – he could identify most through their masks…the first spell was cast. The man Disapparated away immediately, but two Death Eaters, the thugs Crabbe and Goyle senior, had managed to grab hold of him, and were dragged along.

He had known this would happen sooner or later, known that they would come to find him, but how they did it he didn't know, and wouldn't like to speculate.

He knew who would be leading the group.

Hexing both men before they had a chance to come to their senses after the horrible sensation of Side-Along-Apparition, he managed to escape, but the others had followed, able to track Crabbe and Goyle by a special charm made up for this purpose.

As he tore down the night streets he knew he wouldn't be able to run for much longer. His breath was starting to come in ragged gasps by the time he saw the black entrance to another alley loom up on his left, so he darted into it, hoping he would be able to hide in the shadows, also hoping that he might even have the time to use a quick spell to quell the pain of the stitch in his side.

Bad choice.

It was a dead end, a brick wall that rose to the height of the houses, and he did not have enough energy left to do anything useful. There was not even a staircase leading higher up, where he could possibly have escaped over the roofs. Only ten minutes before, he had been sitting peacefully at home, half his mind on the television, and half thinking about old, happy memories from his school days, conjured up by the open photo album at his side, its occupants, almost all of them now deceased, waving merrily from its pages. Their photographs preserved while their bodies were long gone. Memories that brought a smile to his face, something that had not happened often these past few years.

He backed away as he heard the inevitable footsteps approaching.

End Flashback

"You must have known we would find you. There was no way you could hide."

The man by the wall did not respond.

"Any last words?"

"...Yes. Just a few. I know I have time because he" he jerked his head towards the man in front of him as he spat out the word, "he couldn't do it. He's too feeble to do anything like that." The man was banking on annoying his tormentor to the point where he would simply rant and rave, perhaps giving him enough time to get his breath back, and maybe even enough for members of the Order of the Phoenix to find him.

The short man at the front of the mob laughed from behind his black mask, and it was not his old laugh. Neither was it his old voice. This had a sharper edge to it that had not been there before, hardened over the years, maddened slightly by the Dark Lord's use of the Crucio curse on those who failed him, but hoarse from recent lack of use.

"Oh really? You think so, do you? Well, I'm about to prove you wrong." His eyes glinted slightly, showing his true inner madness, as he opened the palm of his hand. A small object on it glinted. This man had put a lot of thought and malice into thinking of the worst way to dispose of the ragged man slumped against the wall.

"Do you know what this is?"

The man by the wall gulped and nodded, his skin paling further than normal.

"Yes…."

"And I'm going to use it."

"No….no….no, no, you couldn't, you – you wouldn't!" He was shaking slightly, but trying to hide it. His bet on delaying the man had failed. And he had never expected anything like this. Anything as bad as this. But who knows what happens in the minds of people like…that?

"Like to bet your life on that? Telus!"

The shining object shot from the man's palm and buried itself in the other man's jugular vein. It bulged for a moment, and then all that could be heard was the wheezing noises as the man collapsed to the ground, his muscles jerking slightly as the object travelled past nerve pathways and found its way into the more major veins. Blood trickled from his mouth onto his deathly white face as he struggled for breath, his lungs seizing and refusing to fill. He knew then that it was over. Even if they found him now, this second, there was no way they could save him. No way in hell.

His eyes darkened as the sliver of silver sped towards his heart and Peter Pettigrew stepped forwards from where he had been watching with interest, his wand now by his side.

"Goodbye, Remus."

To all fellow Remus lovers out there, I apologise profusely for this story. My only defence, and I know it's a poor one,is that I though it was a good plotline at the time.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I always forget about these things. Neither Harry, Ron, Hermione, Tom or Mrs. Weasley are my characters. They belong to JKR. However, the manager and the shop assistant are mine, I control their little lives to the nth degree. The plot is also mine, as I don't think anyone else wants it.

A Friend In Need Is Best Avoided

Hermione knelt down and peered underneath the table as well. The sight that greeted her eyes was quite disturbing. Ron, frothing at the mouth with…what looked like red felt tip pen, was shuffling slowly backwards from the word 'Drool', which had wandered into a stack of Potions textbooks, stubbed one of its many toes, and had kicked the pile down. It was now sniffing the air, and turned slowly, like a shark, until it was, presumably, face to face with Ron. Unless it was considering an attack from the rear.

"No…no…don't hurt me! Please! I'll…I'll wash you…I'll…" he shuddered "I'll even sew you back onto the T-shirt! Or at least get mum to do it! _Please!"_

Hermione shook her head. Ron had broken out in excessive punctuation.

There was no hope for him now.

At this point, a shop assistant hurried into view. "And what exactly do you think you are doing? Get out from under that table! Now!" Ron shot out backwards, almost knocking the assistant over, the word 'Drool' now clinging to his trouser leg with tiny, needle-sharp teeth. Ron looked up, and the assistant, seeing the eyes of one truly going insane, backed off, muttering to Harry and Hermione, "Look, just get him out of here…you don't have to pay for damages, just…just get him away from me!"

Harry and Hermione each grabbed one of Ron's arms and dragged him out into the street, amused onlookers watching as Harry beat the word 'Drool' off Ron's trouser leg, which it was slowly eating, having now expanded to about an A5 size, and stamped on it, kicking it down the drain. It's ensuing adventures, including joining the Navy (it lied about its height) and once saving its shipmates from a giant ant, are another story. One which you will not be reading here.

Ron turned wild eyes onto Hermione, giggling insanely. It didn't take much to make Ron tip over the edge. "It's like you said! The penny was lucky! And I didn't pick it up and now I'm going to have bad luck for ever and ever and ever and eve…" Hermione slapped him round the face at this point. "Sorry, Ron, but if you'd carried on you'd have started saying things like 'Okely dokely', and then we'd have had to quarantine you."

She pulled out her wand, and, while Ron looked at it apprehensively, she cast a spell, '_Cogerit insanire'_ on him. Ron's insane expression disappeared, the inky red froth around his mouth dried up and vanished, and he stopped giggling.

"Ok, that's better. Ron? How are you feeling?"

"Why yes, Mr. Teaspoon, we bought some bread just next week."

"Um…" Hermione glanced at her wand. "I think I got the wrong spell…yeah, that was the _in_sanity one…damn, what's the other one…"

Indeed, Ron was so past the line of sanity that he couldn't even see the line, and was now sculling about contentedly in the little pool of the pink clouds of the happily insane.

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't seem much different to me. Come on, we'll be late meeting Mrs. Weasley." They walked off, Ron trailing behind giggling at shops, cobbles, people wearing robes and just about everything else.

"There you are, dears! I thought you'd forgotten! Come on, we're Flooing back from the Leaky Cauldron."

Mrs. Weasley ushered the three teenagers through the archway and into the yard behind the famous pub. She pushed open the door, then stood the children in a line in front of the fireplace, taking a small pot of sparkling green powder out of her pocket as she did so. "Right then, Ron first." She passed the pot to Ron, who took it, looked at it in a bemused manner, and whispered, "I like spoons. I like to stroke them. Whoopsydaisy, Mr. Teacup."

"Ron, stop being silly and take a pinch."

Hermione interrupted. "Um, Mrs. Weasley, I think we ought to tell you. Ron's a bit insane. Um…he got attacked by his own T-shirt."

Mrs. Weasley stared blankly at them. "Well, I knew it needed a wash, but I didn't think it was quite that bad…"

"No, I tried to make him sane again, but I got the wrong spell and I can't remember the second bit of the other one."

"Oh, that's alright. '_Cogerit…cogerit…_' Oh dear, what's the second half…oh, he'll wait until we get home. Harry, you go first."

Harry and Hermione stood near the fireplace of the Burrow, waiting for Mrs. Weasley and Ron to appear, and feeling slightly guilty, Hermione especially. Then they appeared, revolving, in the fireplace, coughing on soot, Ron rubbing his grazed elbow in a dazed fashion.

"Right, you two look after him, make sure he doesn't…you know, damage anything, and I'll go and look the spell up." She bustled off, leaving Ron standing dazedly in the middle of the room, staring up at the ceiling with his mouth open.

"Um…Ron?"

Ron lowered his gaze from the ceiling, and focused blurrily on Hermione.

"Just like the seaside. Houses sloshing up and down…slosh slosh, slosh slosh…ah yes, baker, ten pounds of your finest ham, please!"

Harry shrugged. "Well, at least he seems pretty happy."

Mrs. Weasley reappeared. "Right, I've found it. '_Cogerit sanus!'_" She swished her wand and pointed it at her youngest son. Ron's eyes refocused, and his face lost its dreamy expression. "Huh? Why are we at home? How did I get here?"

"Oh, thank goodness."

"Mum? Where did you spring from?" Ron's brow suddenly furrowed, then his eyes widened and he made a flying leap for the fireplace. "The penny! I have to get the penny! I don't want to be unlucky any more!" His hands scrabbled along the mantelpiece until he found the main store of Floo powder. Grabbing a handful, he flung half of it into the fireplace, yelled 'Diagon Alley', and stepped in. Starting to spin, he vanished from sight.

"Quick! We have to get after him!"

Harry pulled the Floo plant pot down off the mantelpiece. "Nope, we can't. There's only a few grains left, he's got the rest of it."

"But what do we do! Oh, my poor little baby, what if he gets hurt?" Mrs. Weasley started to sob into her hands.

Hermione patted her awkwardly on the back. "Don't worry, I'm sure he can look after himself. He probably won't be long."

Ron appeared, many miles away, in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. Before he could move, a voice spoke. "Mr. Weasley? You're back quick! Forgotten something, 'ave you?" It was Tom the landlord, cleaning out a large pint mug at the bar. Ron muttered, "Um, yeah, yeah…forgotten something…" and ran out of the door.

Running frantically along the street, Ron tried to remember where he had been when he saw the penny. Um…near Flourish and Blotts! Of course! He approached the shop, but the assistant from before walked past the doorway inside, saw him and screamed. Running over to the front desk, he prodded the manager on the shoulder until he turned, annoyed, to face him. "Sir…sir…it's that boy from earlier! The mad one who knocked the Truth Ink stand over! He's outside!" The manager nodded, came outside, and walked cautiously over to Ron, who was still standing there, looking bewildered. "Now, son, we're not trying to hurt you, so don't do anything rash, but could you just move away from the shop, see? I think you're scaring the workers a bit." The man was speaking in a friendly, reassuring tone, and was trying not to get too near to Ron. "Um, yeah, I was just looking for my penny…I think I dropped it…" Were these people mad or something?

"Your penny, is it, son? Yes…that's…nice, ok then, thankyou." The man walked to his shop again, trying not to turn his back on Ron. Who knew what he might do…?

Puzzled by this, Ron knelt down on the muddy cobbles, heedless of the rainwater seeping into the knees of his jeans, and started sifting through the muck on the floor, muttering to himself, "Gotta find it…gotta find it…come on…I promise I'll…I'll wash my socks, I'll brush my teeth every morning and night, I'll…help Ginny with her homework…please…"

Brushing aside a small pile of mud, which he then wiped across his cheeks by accident, he found it.

The penny.

The beautiful, beautiful penny.

It sat there, gleaming muddily and smiling to itself. This one really believed.

Ron sat back in the mud. It was going to be alright. He was going to be fine. No more bad luck. Just good luck, for ever and ever.

I must also say that the description of insanity is not mine either, it is borrowed from a Discworld (Terry Pratchett) book, can't remember which one, and is really about the Bursar.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Only the plot belongs to me. And the Ministry workers. sniff I own nothing else sniff.

Epilogue 

The manager of Flourish and Blotts stood watching this strange boy for a moment, then walked, calmly, into the back room, where he scribbled a short note, tied it to the leg of an owl, and threw it out of the window and into the sky. The owl didn't have far to go, so they would probably be here soon…

…Five minutes later…

An owl arrived at the Ministry of Magic. Flying to the addressed department, it landed on a desk and hooted loudly, waking the man at the desk from his doze. "Wha'…oh. It's you again, Chive." He unclipped the parchment note from around its leg. Unfolding it, he read;

_Dear Mr. Chapman,_

_I'm afraid there's another one. This time it's a boy though, a teenager. He came in earlier, pushed over a display of Truth Ink, destroyed two piles of parchment, knocked over a stack of very valuable textbooks, and tried to assault one of my staff. His keepers managed to take him away, but now he's back, he's alone, and he's standing outside, and, frankly, I'm scared to think what he's going to do next._

_We desperately need your assistance._

_Terry Thwaite, Manager of Flourish and Blotts Book and Stationery Suppliers._

Mr. Chapman sighed, screwed the parchment into a ball, and threw it at the bin, where it missed and joined several others. Going over to a side door, he shouted through it, "Hey! Waters! Kobold! Bulstrode! Get your butts in gear, there's another one in Sector 10!"

"Aww, but boss, it's our lunch break!"

"Insanity does not sleep! Get your arses out there, or get them kicked out!"

Mr. Chapman settled into his chair again. Thank gods, he thought, that he'd been promoted so he didn't have to do all that field work.

The complaining workers from the Department of Insanity apparated away.

Upon arrival in Diagon Alley, they found one Ronald Weasley sitting in the mud, rocking backwards and forwards and laughing at a small item in his hands.

Waters, Kobold and Bulstrode slowed down at the sight.

Waters squatted down next to the insane teenager. "Hey son, what's your name?"

Ron glanced up, briefly distracted from the beautiful, beautiful penny. "Ron Weasley. Why?"

Waters stood up again. "He's Arthur's son, Kobold."

"Oh hell, he's going to be really upset, isn't he."

Bulstrode narrowed his eyes. "But how do we know he's telling the truth? He's insane, after all."

"Have you seen that hair? And the freckles? Nah, there's no-one else's kid he could be."

Waters squatted down again. "Ok then Ron, do you want to come with us? We'll take you somewhere nice where nobody can hurt you."

Ron frowned. "Where? You're not going to put me in jail, are you? Mum'd go nuts! Please don't put me in jail…"

"No, no, don't worry, it's nothing like that. It's just…somewhere nice. Come on." He held out his hand, and Ron took it hesitantly, and walked off into a new life.

Off to a new life in the wing for the mentally impaired of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

But nothing could hurt him. He still had his penny.


End file.
